


all that we see and seem is but a dream within a dream

by DidiNyx



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Ambiguity, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Childhood Memories, Eventual Fluff, Falling In Love, Family Issues, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Internal Monologue, Introspection, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, M/M, Mental Instability, Performing Arts, Philosophy, Poetic, Psychosis, Spiritual, watch there be some weird ass plot twist, writing is hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-14 12:50:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20192581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DidiNyx/pseuds/DidiNyx
Summary: Hamlet thought everyone saw the shadow figures."The stage you last perform on, however, is in death. Somewhere the living do not know...Maybe that is why I cannot accept anything less than perfection now."





	all that we see and seem is but a dream within a dream

**Author's Note:**

> i'm trying my best to push out more hamlet content/improve my writing in general. this one was so hard for numerous reasons and i had to start over at some point (hence why this, the 4th scene I wrote, is posted here first lmao rip)
> 
> i do have a general hamlet writing suggestion! if you're lacking creativity just listen to "i'll call thee hamlet" on repeat lol

The auditorium definitely wasn't as extravagant as the stages Hamlet was used to performing on, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was on Wittenberg's stage and he had the opportunity to do what he desired. Other students looked either remained respectfully quiet or chattered softly among small groups when waiting for the theater director to show up. A few times they included Hamlet in the conversation, beginning with a polite "Prince," and following with _what do you make of the environment?_ or_ isn't it true you used to act publicly?_ Hamlet gave a faint smile and conversed with them, ever so often glancing to the ceiling or the school flags hung up. Hamlet also had an urge to play with the vibrant green curtains, or to run his hands against the cool stone walls. A very faint whisper-- but a voice nevertheless-- rumbled in the floors, or perhaps it was the slight breathing of the historic school, or some tangible energy.

Hamlet actually mentioned this to Horatio after his friend continued to encourage the prince to show up to the audition. Horatio talked about his "royally authentic voice" and "gentle hand motions" until Hamlet couldn't take the compliments anymore and changed the subject.

"It's different for every stage, you know." Hamlet and Horatio were at the library (their favorite place to be), comfortably sharing a bean bag on the floor. Hamlet was the one holding the open book they were reading, and suddenly he looked up and the book slid a little from his grasp. 

"What's different?" asked Horatio carefully.

"Mm. The energy." Hamlet made sure the book was back in position. "Each performance is a little different. I don't think most people notice, it's just another show to get through. But each time you have a different audience, and of course, an actor's mood and stamina can change after doing multiple shows. And if you're a really good actor, each time you'll notice a thing or two more about a specific scene or role. It depends on a lot, how you delivered your lines compared to last time or if you decide to look in another direction, stand next to another character. Maybe that's me overthinking it, but..."

Horatio was a really good listener. He kept his eyes on Hamlet (it both comforted the prince and made him somewhat self-conscious), and he nodded frequently. Besides, Hamlet thought Horatio always knew what to say. "Observation is definitely one of your strengths," he said with a little smile. "I'm not so experienced with theater outside the literary aspect, so perhaps I'm biased to say this next part, but it takes someone special to feel on a spiritual level what their acting can do, yes?"

Hamlet nodded, meeting Horatio's gold eyes. How could someone be so bright, warm and understanding?

"I suppose. I've worked with other actors before, of course, and especially when I was younger I liked to ask questions about what drove them to do what they did and if they were aware of their habits. Small stuff like that. In a lot of people's eyes I'm still bubbly like that, you know." He chuckled lightly, and continued: "I don't think they mentioned a lot of what I... sensed." 

"That feeling you get when you perform... I bet it's hard to explain anyway."

"Of course."

"But I believe you." Horatio closed the spacing more between Hamlet, pressing his shoulders to the prince's and letting their hands brush. Hamlet adored the small, loving touches, and in fact, he craved more of it. But something distracted him from fully comprehending it. 

"Do you ever wonder what others think about when they're on that stage?"

Horatio hummed. "Honestly, I don't think I really considered that." There was no point asking _What about you?_ because Horatio fully expected Hamlet to go off on a tangent, and besides he knew Hamlet expected Horatio's curious self would ask if he remained silent. 

Hamlet knew the question hung in the air. He considered not answering, but it was too late for that, Horatio's pleading eyes were too much and the prince desperately wanted to keep the conversation going. He's never shared so many words, never stayed up so late with someone in his life and never wished for their moments to end.

"It really is like living another life," he said gently. "Which of course only makes death something even more worth contemplating." Hamlet clutched his own shirt. "I mean, when the curtain falls, and you know longer see the lights or the audience-- and it's just dark, with distorted shadows of your fellow actors all around-- that doesn't mean the play has ended, no, it's not until the claps from the audience that you awaken. But you're no longer on the earth your character saw as their home. You're back to 'reality'. It's as if that world died, the character you just played died, and now you have to solemnly march off the stage and listen to the funeral. At best, the people laugh, because they're not taking the ending so seriously. At worst, if the play was emotional, you see everyone else cry, which just reminds you of a ghostly world you just left." There was a beat or so before Hamlet said: "I don't mean to be overbearingly depressed or anything, but alas--"

He was interrupted by Horatio squeezing his hand and nuzzling his collarbone. "Don't apologize," he said sweetly, "I am so glad you've enlightened me."

_ Damn you,_ Hamlet thought presently, knowing he had another role to fulfill. _You act is if my morbid commentary is beautiful in its own right. What are you, a masochist?_

No more talk of death right now, Hamlet said to himself way too much. Horatio had talked about how thinking such things could be helpful in their own right, but now Hamlet didn't have anyone to reach into his mind and pluck out the dark thoughts. 

"You look quite serious," a student from behind remarked lightheartedly. 

Hamlet exhaled deeply. "Ah, well, physical stages take away the confusion of life." He wasn't going to elaborate.

Soon _Hamlet Adal_ was called (later on, perhaps not to intimidate everyone), and Hamlet gracefully yet quietly made his way to the stage, walking up the steps feeling he was walking toward being crowned king. It was that mix of calm dread yet feeling of obligation that he learned to keep under wraps. When he met the middle of the stage, he gave a bright smile and bowed as if saying _Thanks for having me._ The happiness could've fooled anyone. His face then relaxed, and on cue he spoke in effortless rhythm and depth that scared even himself.

_ It's like the last notes you sing before you die,_ Hamlet though, _or the last words you ever say before you no longer can speak._

_It's the last time someone mentions your name, it's the air surrounding your last breath, the object you last touched, the person you last thought about._

_ The stage you last perform on, however, is in death. Somewhere the living do not know. _

_ Maybe that is why..._

_ Maybe that is why I cannot accept anything less than perfection now._

Hamlet's last line was said, and when the prince bowed he bit his lip and cursed the heart threatening to break. There were applauds and general shock stirred within that lonely auditorium, one in which no bright lights were currently shining and all the people were faceless and blurred. Hamlet could see clearly, though, the swirls of black ink and the odd sparkle of stars against the cold and earthly stone.

> _The chance to let your talent truly blossom, perhaps it's today. Or maybe, it's tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, or next year. Or perhaps even when you're 30? In regards to physique, I can't say much. But if you yourself think that you don't have talent, then you'll probably never have it._

**Author's Note:**

> So far this is very similar to the format of my other Hamlet fanfics, but in the next few chapters I'm going to write Hamlet's origin/past experiences so there's more context to everything going on. Then we'll pick up to the actual plot I want to show.  
Again, the origin would've been actually posted right now if I didn't have to start this from scratch all over again haha. School is VERY close to starting for me so I actually have no idea when I'm going to be able to update but I will somehow. 
> 
> The quote at the end was added mostly for my own self-indulgence. It's from the Haikyuu manga (weeb alert, sue me) and the character who said it kinda?? reminds me of Hamlet in a weird way?? yeah. cool beans


End file.
